I Don't Want To Ask
by A Fire in the Attic
Summary: Derek isn't really sure what's going on, but Erica will probably tell him. Eventually.


**Word Count**: 668

**Prompt**: Proposal

**Pairing**: Derica

* * *

"Derek, we have been dating for ten years," Erica informs him one day over breakfast. She's giving him a significant look, and he can't quite figure out what she wants him to do about that.

"Ten happy years?" he tries.

"Not really," she says, frowning.

He catalogues the supernatural threats that have been going on during those ten years, and concludes, that no, they were not ten happy years. "Well, you brightened these last ten years, then," he says. "The demons sucked but you were great."

She rolls her eyes and doesn't bring it up again.

* * *

Later he overhears her talking to Stiles on the phone. "He didn't get the hint," she's saying. Stiles must say something in response, because she huffs and snaps, "I don't want to do it! …Yes I'm aware this is the twenty-first century. Yes, I know that Sarah asked you. Why did I even bother calling you? Ugh, never mind." She hangs up without saying goodbye.

Derek is left feeling even more confused.

* * *

"Derek, what's your favorite flavor of cake?" she asks breezily one day. She's flicking a finger over her phone and yawning.

"I liked that red velvet cake you made," he says.

"Hmm," she says, and leaves her phone as she leaves the room. It's tilted toward him, like she wants him to look, but that doesn't actually make sense. They have a strict rule to not look at each other's phones. It's solidarity or trust or something, but Derek honestly doesn't care. He'd be able to smell if she was hooking up with someone else. The only embarrassing thing either of them could run into would be him finding out what kinky fanfiction she was currently reading.

(That was the reason the rule was in place, and he was not interested in a repeat performance.)

* * *

"If we got married, who would you invite?" she asks.

"Neighboring alphas," Derek says, frowning. "You know this. We just had Scott and Allison's wedding a couple years ago."

She sighs, "Yeah, okay, I meant other than that."

"Uh, the pack, obviously," he says. "Maybe some friends from New York." He dismisses that idea almost immediately, because ten years is a long time and he honestly doesn't know where any of those people are.

Erica is taking notes down, like this is really important. "Okay, what colors would you pick?"

"Coral pink and ivory," he says blandly, because he's not sure why she's asking him this.

She considers that. "I think Lydia would hate that, so I'm down with it."

* * *

Derek finds a magazine on the coffee table and frowns for a solid minute. They don't subscribe or buy magazines because Erica thinks most of them are tacky.

But there is clearly a bridal magazine sitting on the table. He texts Lydia. "I think you left a magazine here when you visited this weekend."

She doesn't answer, but later he hears Erica groan and throw it away. Weird.

* * *

He's making stir-fry when Erica completely loses it.

"Dammit, Derek," she yells when she enters the kitchen. "Can you please take a hint?"

"What?" he asks, pausing in his stirring.

"I have not been subtle," she says. "I left my wedding board on Pinterest up on my phone. I asked you basic wedding planning questions. I reminded you that it's been ten years and asked about wedding guests. And I know you overheard me telling Stiles that I didn't want to propose."

"I don't," he begins, but Erica cuts him off.

"However, I can see that unless I do it, it's just not going to happen, so will you please, for the love of all that is holy, marry me?"

For a second he just stares at her before nodding numbly.

"About damn time," she huffs before leaving the room.

"If you wanted me to ask," he says rolling his eyes. "You could have just told me."

Erica lets out of a scream of frustration that has Derek grinning into the fried rice.

* * *

**A/N**: I'm clearly the least romantic person I know. Is Derek oblivious or deliberately obtuse? We just don't know.

Oh and I obviously don't own Teen Wolf.


End file.
